Imagination
Is
An dream
By humans

once the people taste freedom they wont return to chains.

Some call me a saint,
others call me a hellion,
but at some point revolution
must progress to rebellion.

You and I walked down the road
as lonely hearted friends
to find the way that leads to love
on the path where friendship ends.

We've always been desperate to share
the feelings never spoken out loud,
but our perfect sky is always filled
with the reluctance of broken clouds.

If the time had come for us to decide
which path would you choose?
Would you still just be feeling lost
or just too afraid to lose?

This prison is a place where darkness only breeds
and the shadows dance with themselves,
playing tricks on my eyes, darting quickly across the walls
only to vanish upon my focused gaze.

I once caught a glimpse of these hypnotic specters;
cruel machinations of tortured souls revealed themselves
to be nothing more than corrupted reflections of myself
wandering aimlessly through a hall of mirrors.

These rooms were once traversable,
but now this maze is more twisted than my own intentions;
unheeded, unnoticed and smiling, like a knife in the dark
waiting for an opportunity to quell any ambitions
that may lead to freedom.

The weight of darkness
is something only the sun
can ever make light.

I am tired of being told what I should and what I shan't.
And I know this platform isn't for ranting and yet here I'll rant.
I am sick of being empty, aimless, vague and out of place.
I am sick of wasting all your air, of taking all your space.
And my claws, I use to tear my skin, so that I could be set free,
And my screams I let out muffled and hushed to spare you my agony.
And my body feels imprisoning, my breath is getting faint
And my eyes are melting, face is welting, dying from the paint
And the bathroom doors complaining from the numb and from the tear
And my psyche getting tired of all the sorrow and the fear.
And the voice inside my head, always saying I'm not enough
And the lies I tell myself like "you can make it, you are tough."
And the people I looked up, lived with, shared with my days
And the lies they taugh me, unconditional love, they said, stays.
And the God whom I once worshiped and for whom I often cried
And the deaf, the blind, the disabled, to whom he's closely tied.
And the fact that I am beyond your repair, beyond all that can be done
And the way I feel at the start of each day and with every falling sun.
And the creature biting on my heart at every given chance
And the demons sitting in my head, not letting me advance.
And the love I always had, different faces every while
And the feelings that I gave away and never even got a smile.
This is not a ranting place, and yet here I wrote.
Is this a good place though to write one's suicide note?